[i]'What the hell...?'[/i]

Steiner's lips fell downward from the mocking grin he'd held underneath the hood. That sound...It was laughter, of a sort. But no man could utter such a grotesque, high pitched sound. Though the chortle was surprisingly pleasant to the ear, it met with nothing but disdain from the imprisoned medical officer. A distinct, deep-seated hatred, ingrained into his heart from practically the day he was born. Franklin's scarred visage twisted into a grimace, a low, throaty growl escaping from his chapped lips.

"Chaos." He all but spat it out. The very word made his stomach churn. Every vile image of those inhuman monsters blowing apart his comrades came rushing back to the forefront of the Cadian's mind. Every las shot that melted through an old friend. Every crack of an autogun that blew their brains out the back of a soldier's skull. Steiner wouldn't forget the sight of cultists with chain weapons tearing through his lines, chewing apart flesh and spitting out clouds of red mist and gore.

So they weren't pirates. The men that beat and kidnapped him were heretics and traitors to the Imperium. Vile pieces of human garbage and refuse that did not deserve the ground they shit on. Those who turned to worshiping the daemons that destroyed once beautiful Cadia deserved nothing more than a las shot through the eye. "Scum. You're fucking scum." Steiner rasped, fury barely contained by the fact that he held no power here. He'd...never been this close to Chaos worshipers before. Not without bayonet or combat knife in hand, anyway. It was almost a surreal experience to hear that distorted, inhuman voice, as if it came from all around him.

The owner of that otherworldly voice seemed to float before Steiner, making no sound other than it's practiced speech. It spoke of the cold; as if that bothered him. Decades upon frozen world after frozen world had built up an immunity for even the harshest tundra. Fighting with little more than a cloth upon his back in the slush and snow, heated only by the occasional shot of las, was more common for Frank than breathing. His interrogator had captured his equipment already. They knew he was a medic. [i]'Which means they've got my tags, too. The hell are they asking for my name for, then?'[/i] It was a tactic of interrogation. Present Steiner with a seemingly ordinary series of questions, so that the later, more pressing ones come easier from his loosed lips. Frank wasn't a traitor. He was a lot of things. But he damn well knew he wasn't a traitor.

"Lemme have it, then, ya piece of fuckin' shit!" Steiner roared, the needle piercing into his system like a bayonet through the gut of a man. The medic sucked in air between his teeth. It didn't take long for the unknown substance to begin it's work. He was getting...colder. Much colder. It was as if winter itself had been transferred into his body. Frost's cruel maw wrapped around his insides, sinking it's frozen teeth deep into his form. [i]'What...What is this?'[/i] This was different. This wasn't...anything he had ever encountered before. It wasn't a feeling he could adequately describe. Somehow, the cold wasn't numbing him. It continued to bite and eat at his interior. Anguished, pained groans fell from the sergeant. His breathing was ragged and shaky. He dug at the restraints on his arms, bucking and fighting against them, but he made little progress.

"You've...already got.." Frank muttered, his voice shaking from the freezing cold in his veins. "My tags, right? Y-you've got my name.." Steiner wasn't deluded. He knew how this would end. Captured by the forces of Chaos, he'd be lucky to die in any kind of quick fashion. These 'men' were sadists. They would make the sergeant hurt, even if he gave them everything they wanted. There was nothing Frank could do to stop this, or even slow it down. This...this was happening. He was gonna die, and it was gonna be slow and it was gonna hurt. Nothing could change that. So why give them the satisfaction? Why endanger his comrades by giving up even an ounce of information? It wasn't worth it. "I got enough brains to know...that you don't have [i]anything[/i] on me." Steiner's rasped laugh held even greater contempt than the last time, though his strength was rapidly fading in the cold. "I'm dyin' either way. But if I can go down spittin' in the face of your 'gods?' Then that's enough...for me. So go ahead. Do your God damn worst. I can...I can take it."